|In the 80's i was obsessed with Jack Kerouac and the beat generation. By luck and circumstance while living in Paris, i got to know several original still living beatniks especially the great jazz poet Ted Joans who i met at Shakespeare book co. I somewhat adopted him and him me. He then "Teducated" me into the world of Beatniks. Through him i got to meet Ferlinghetti, Peter Orlovsky, Ginsberg, Corso, Schnabel... and though most have all recently passed on, i will never forget when i moved to NY and Ted was staying with me, i would be in awe to come home and find my answering machine full with these guys voices leaving messages for Ted. Although all the talk ever revolved around was eating food and where to get food...nothing literary, artistic or Beat or even interesting...just burgers or chicken...thats the extent of depth i ever got out of any encounters. but Ted was a true great friend and i recently came across a poem of mine dedicated to his passing...(reminded by my friend Wolfgang)...so here is my beat style dedication to his death in 2003...|
|Ted Joans outside the strand 1995|
The Beat Beat Beat...! Listen! can you hear it? i hear him now that old Ted Joans. i hear the beat, beat, beat,.. the beat of the heart. i hear the sound of all them hep cats and hipsters hanging out under the big drunk sky, following that one way celestial highway swaying to the dharma, the bum, the tenor sax and trumpet blowin blues with those big beautiful black lips, the bird flappin, the click click of the mimic and mockery of a generation. there he goes leaving us his dreams, now revisited through the eyes of fallen angels and saints- leaving us sad angels in search of our own eternal freedom and love. leaving us lookin for home in the sweat stained cities on old earth, teducated from nyc to Timbuktu. and there he goes that Ted Joans, leaving this old earth and karma riding on the back of the great Rhino. there he goes 'on the road" down that Beat road...can you hear it???
|Me and Ted 12th st apt|